


Toast in the open fields

by Andreri25



Series: Loving in Doriath and Beyond [3]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Author Is Sleep Deprived, Beleg just wanted to celebrate, M/M, Underage Drinking, Underage Kissing, still Jan 1 here, too flipping late tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-27 04:41:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13240656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Andreri25/pseuds/Andreri25
Summary: Day 6- Turin is bothered by where does his relationship with Beleg stand





	Toast in the open fields

“Are we there yet, Beleg?”

The tone of exasperation didn’t go unnoticed to the archer and he chuckled. “Almost, my dear child.” He carefully guided the blindfolded boy up a final hill and maneuvered them both to sit on a flat rock on the top.

Beleg looked over ahead of them and at the clearing sky with a content sigh, “You may take it off now”

Túrin did so roughly, not at all pleased with being awaken in the middle of the night by his mentor and dragged blind throughout the forest. Blinking his eyes open the first thing he saw was the sun light shyly leaking far over the mountains and spreading over a vast plain right in front of them from the opposite bank of a copious river. With a start, Túrin realized they were seating in the limit of Melian’s Girdle, staring at the beyond meadows of Beleriand -and he was speechless.

The King and Queen would not let him this far away from their protection. _Not yet_ , they said. It had indeed taken a lot of convincing for him to be allowed to train as a future march warden and he wasn’t completely sure how Beleg had pulled that off. _This_ …This he _was_ sure Beleg hadn’t convinced them and rather sneaked him out.

“What say you, son of Húrin?” inquired the blond, grinning. He could see the glint in Túrin’s eyes.

“I say you have finally lost your mind up in the marches, old Beleg” He snorted. “Truly, when King Thingol finds out…”

“He would be graced that I found a way that pleases you to celebrate another year of your life” Beleg blurted excitedly, biting his lower lip.

Oh. _Right_. It was Túrin’s birth day. His _sixteenth_ birth day. Something about that statement didn’t settle well in the teen’s gut. He frowned.

Beleg’s grin dropped. “He nor the Queen will punish you –or me- if that worries you.  They trust my ability with your safety. Otherwise they would not have permitted that I train you, nor that I-“

“Beleg” He called, stopping the other’s ranting “It is no what my caretakers may or may not do that troubles me”

Beleg nailed him with his glance, tilting his head to the side and making his silvery hair –which he had pulled up into a high ponytail- fall over his shoulder. “But something _is_ troubling you.”

It wasn’t a question, and Túrin didn’t give it an answer.

“Perhaps…” Beleg sighed dramatically, fishing something from his bag, “this will make you feel more talkative, my dear”

Túrin gaped at what the archer held high in his hand, that smug grin back upon his lips. It was a bottle of wine decorated with painted leaves of silver and gold, the cork was a bright blue gem and it wore a seal with a wolf running in a field of stars.

“Is that…Erchamion wine?”

Beleg grinned wide as he handed Túrin the bottle “Harvested on the year Dior, Thingol’s heir, was born. It is said to be the best yet.”

 Túrin laughed, delighted “How did you get your hands on this?”

The archer looked solemn, as he often did when giving advice “Collect friends instead of foes in your life, Túrin, and you will never have need of anything else.”

The moment was lost almost immediately as a wide smile broke again in Beleg’s face (he certainly was in a good mood) and he pulled the teen unto his lap. Taking the bottle from Túrin’s hand he toasted “May your years be long and splendorous”, opened it and took a deep sip. Entwining his free hand in the dark hair, Beleg guided their heads together until their lips met.

It was one thing to hear of a wine’s greatness. It was absolutely different to taste it from your lover’s lips and mouth. _Lover._ Túrin sighed at the though and the sweet turned to bitterness in his tongue.

He broke the kiss and turned his face away. Beleg pressed his forehead against the side of Túrin’s face to whisper in his ear “What has you suffering, child?”

The teen gritted his teeth and pushed violently away from Beleg. “That, precisely. You. Us. It has me losing my mind” His voice was raised but he paid it no heed, for once they didn’t have to pretend or hide and Beleg couldn’t confuse him any longer. “You play with me, Beleg.”

The blond’s heart was pierced as by an arrow at those words. He gasped. Túrin went on.

“You kiss me and touch me and caress me as a lover when we are alone, yet you call me ‘child’. You pride on me as my mentor but you know how I feel for you”

“And I for you!” cried Beleg, jumping to his feet and cupping Túrin’s face in his hands. “Do you not know that I love you?”

Túrin’s breath left him. It was the first time he’d said it out loud. He breathed in, “what _are_ we, Beleg?” he breathed out.

Beleg stared at him, at his gorgeous blue eyes. How to make him see? How could a _boy_ so young understand? Túrin could love him for the rest of his life, but he was a Man. And Beleg was not Lúthien. He would be helpless when the end came, beyond any consolation. For he _knew_ , Beleg just _knew_ that if he chose to surrender to his love for Túrin, it will be his death. Still…

“Hold me”

Beleg’s hands fell to his sides and Túrin frowned, confused.

“Hold me in your arms, Túrin” He repeated, touching one of the teen’s hands and taking it to his own waist. Snapping out of his stupor Túrin pulled Beleg closer, circling his waist and resting an open palm on his middle back. His other arm he threw sheepishly around Beleg’s shoulders.

Beleg would not break eye contact from a few inches above Túrin. 

The boy began drawing small circles in his arm with his thumb and Beleg sighed with content.

“We…are together, Melleth-Nin” He murmured, and Túrin knew.


End file.
